Chris Jameson: I was playing for the greatest prize of all....

As a child I pretty much had golf (or the 'G' word as it's now known) foisted on me as I grew up in a household that loved the game and holidays seemed to revolve around some golf tournament or other.

I'm sure I must have enjoyed some moments but my lasting memories are of a dash to casualty after being stung on the back of the neck at some minor tournament or other in, or near Darlington, I still have a lump behind my ear to remind me of that particular day. A trip to the Open in Lytham saw me develop a terrible headache which I now know to be my first migraine, four decades on I still blame the 'G' word for my migraines. It is bad for your health. If it wasn't freezing cold and chucking it down it was unbearably hot and if Gary Player wasn't playing (and more often than not, he wasn't) it was unbelievably boring.

I do have fond memories of one tournament at Fulford golf club near York. Again I can't recall what the tournament was called, as far as I was concerned they were all the same but at least this one didn't result in a trip to casualty. For some reason I decided I was going to collect autographs from anybody who looked like they could be a golfer, not as easy as you might think, remember this was in the days before Alan Partridge but I guess his look could be described as 1970's golf chic, spectators were all weekend golfers with the same shocking dress sense. I soon got bored but to alleviate the boredom I set myself the challenge of getting one particular golfers signature as many times as possible, I think it was the 8th or 9th time I approached Neil Coles that he looked sorely tempted to snap the pencil I was now using as a cunning (rubbish) disguise.

As if being dragged round golf courses wasn't bad enough I was bought a set of clubs and 'encouraged' to take the bloody game up. Unfortunately I appeared to have a natural talent and was pretty good at the game. My swing was evidently very nice, being told that by an older gentleman dressed like a pimp should set alarm bells ringing but this was the club's pro and it was the 70's. I was made a junior member of the local club and to my horror my mum started organising tournaments, to her horror she had to disqualify my best friend and I after we couldn't be bothered to walk to our own balls and so played each others. We were both playing different holes at the time.

The last time I was invited on a family holiday involving golf saw me lose my temper and will to live whilst playing on a Links course at the otherwise beautiful North Berwick, there was a dry stone wall which I made a valiant attempt to demolish using a 5 iron and golf ball which repeatedly bounced off the bloody thing. When my family visited the town a few years ago I took them to see the famous wall, I found it quite cathartic. Still wanted to flatten it though. I also successfully sliced a shot so wildly that I broke the window of a hotel overlooking the course, when I say 'overlooking' it was behind a huge wall and quite a distance from the course. Stupid place to put a hotel really, who in their right minds would want to stay in a hotel with a view of a golf course? The hotel has since closed down, I like to think I contributed in some small way.

At the age of 14 I was entered into the golf club annual juniors tournament, it was a fairly big and prestigious competition in the small northern town, (think Emmerdale without plane crashes or bad acting). I didn't want to play in the tournament (I must have known Punk Rock was about to happen, Punks don't play golf surely?) and my dad struck a deal with me. IF I win then I don't have to play golf ever again. Ever. Again. I'm not competitive but there was no way anybody was going to beat me that day and I won the tournament quite comfortably. I got the bus home with my clubs and the trophy, walked into the garage and threw them joyously in amongst the sledges (which doubled up as wickets in the summer) and bikes, never to use them again. I can still see the look on dad's face when I plonked the trophy down in the kitchen!

My golfing 'career' ended on a high, I never returned to defend the title although Jameson Junior won it, I never used the clubs again and barring the odd hack around a municipal course where I discovered I am incapable of hitting a ball without swearing, haven't ventured onto a golf course.

I can cope with watching the final few holes of a major tournament and a few minutes of the Ryder Cup on TV these days but undoubtedly my greatest ever sporting achievement is giving up golf.

Still love my Punk Rock though!

Memory added on March 22, 2013

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